


Boners Are Easiest to Hide in the Dark

by mtskws



Category: Gintama
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Sex, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, First Meetings, Flirting, Jealousy, Lapdance, Light BDSM, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Pole Dancing, Seduction, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24009088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtskws/pseuds/mtskws
Summary: “Won’t you stay to watch a dance or two?”Gintoki’s patience is wearing thin. “No, I don’t waste my money on hookers.” He takes another sip from his bottle.“I hope this changes your mind.”In which Hijikata is a stripper and Gintoki is hopelessly whipped.
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki
Comments: 76
Kudos: 253





	1. You Always Want What You Can't Have

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marucchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marucchi/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to my beloved friend [@marrbl_](https://twitter.com/marrbl_)on twitter, because she was the one who inspired me to write this with her sexy stripper!Hijikata fanart. Please show her some love and support!

It’s a warm Friday night. The streets of Kabukicho are buzzing with nightlife—faces illuminated by neon signs and drunk laughter erupting from restaurants. On this cheerful night, Sakata Gintoki trudges along the streets, irritated, dehydrated, and tired as fuck. He’d just gotten off work after four hours of overtime. _Unpaid_ overtime, at that. Curse his stupid competitive streak. The jerk at the desk opposite his—Takasugi Shinsuke—had made a bet with him at the start of the month: guy with the least sales has to treat the other to a meal of his choice for a whole week. Just as Gintoki was about to leave the office, Takasugi annoyingly reminded him of the annoying bet and that it was the end of the month so they had to annoyingly collate all their sales to settle the score.

Naturally, Gintoki lost by a couple sales, and after finally escaping from the confines of the office and Takasugi’s endless taunts, he wants nothing more than a cold beer to wash down the humiliation. He stops in front of the nearest club. It’s popular, or so he’s heard, but he’s never actually been. _Ah heck_ , he thinks, and walks in.

The music is painfully loud; the bass tremors through the ground, and strobe lights dart around, blinding Gintoki a few times. There are dancers—both male and female—on the poles. Business is booming, it seems. At any other time, Gintoki would be more than happy to slip a few notes in the panties of a hot stripper, but right now all he wants is to get away from the crowd and have a beer or two.

He makes his way through the crowd to the bar at the back. It’s much less crowded there, and the music’s a little softer too. He sits himself on a bar stool and gestures for the bartender. A man, suspiciously young-looking, with neat brown hair framing his boyish face, walks up to Gintoki, wiping a glass dry.

“What’ll you have, boss?”

“Aren’t you a little young to be working here?” Gintoki asks, narrowing his eyes.

“No, I—” Before he can reply, Gintoki stops him with a dismissive wave of his hand, realising he doesn’t care at all.

“Just a beer,” he says. The bartender nods and leaves to fetch him a bottle.

Gintoki looks around. The bar’s empty save for him and another man sitting two seats to his left. He glances and accidentally makes eye contact. _Fuck_ , he thinks, as the man opens his mouth to make conversation.

“First time?” he asks. Gintoki graces him a quick glance and a slight nod. To his dismay, the man moves to the seat next to him, and leans against the counter.

“It’s not every day you see a new face around here,” he continues suggestively. His voice is strangely pleasing—just the right amount of husky. It’s enough to make Gintoki turn his head.

The man is handsome. Very handsome. Short, black hair and V-shaped bangs Gintoki could only dream of pulling off. He looks up at Gintoki with bedroom eyes (is it the eyeliner? It’s probably just the eyeliner). He smells incredible, too. Gintoki has no idea what cologne he’s wearing, but the vanilla and musk notes make his head spin.

He’s interrupted by the bartender sliding him his beer.

“Thanks,” he says absentmindedly, thrown off his train of thoughts. He takes a few gulps to clear his mind, feeling the stranger’s eyes locked on him. He releases the bottle from his lips and looks down at the stranger’s hands. He’s wearing a jacket clearly too big for him, because his sleeves go past his wrists. In his hands is a glass of clear liquid.

“What’s that? Vodka?” Gintoki asks, gesturing to his glass. As if to tease him, the man brings the glass to his lips with both his stupidly cute sweater paws and takes a sip.

“Water,” he says, setting it back down.

Gintoki is confused, but he can’t be bothered to probe further. Not like this guy’s gonna stop talking, anyway.

“What brings you here, then?” he says, reaching out to touch Gintoki’s tie. Gintoki stops the inquiring hand with his own.

“I’m just here for a drink,” he says firmly, a little annoyed by his advances now.

“Hmm, someone’s in a bad mood,” the stranger jokes. Gintoki replies wordlessly with a swig from his bottle.

“Won’t you stay to watch a dance or two?”

Gintoki’s patience is wearing thin. “No, I don’t waste my money on hookers.” He takes another sip from his bottle.

“Hijikata,” the bartender calls out flatly, and the stranger turns around. “You’re up.”

The man, or as Gintoki’s just learned, Hijikata, stands up and turns to the stage. Gintoki only just realises he isn’t wearing pants—only red stockings and a garter belt. Hijikata unzips his oversized jacket and shrugs it off his shoulders to reveal toned back muscles under flawlessly smooth skin. He lets the jacket drop at his feet, which are sporting a pair of Louboutin stilettoes. His perky ass is covered, just barely, by the tiniest pair of briefs and what look like the straps of a thong underneath, hiked above his hipbones.

As if this wasn’t enough of a sight to take in, Hijikata turns around to face Gintoki, exposing all the glory of his naked torso for the man to admire. Barbells through his nipples, and his perfectly chiseled form mocking the very likes of David, Hijikata leans over to whisper in Gintoki’s ear, and his scent overwhelms all of Gintoki’s senses.

“I hope this changes your mind.”

Gintoki gulps. Hijikata smirks and spins around to saunter up the steps to the nearest pole.

Almost as if Hijikata is the star of the show, the music changes as he starts his dance. His hand still on the pole, he circles around it, his long, lean legs taking painfully slow strides. He takes his sweet time, smiling confidently at the audience, offering a wink, a smirk, a bite of his lower lip, at whoever meets his eyes. And it’s clear he’s no newbie—the audience is completely smitten, and Gintoki is no exception.

Hijikata eventually stops, centering himself and holding the pole with both hands now, above his head. He whips his head in Gintoki’s direction and blows him a kiss, and Gintoki nearly falls off his seat. But Hijikata gives him absolutely no time to collect himself—he drops into a squat and comes back up ever so slowly, arching his back and baring his scantily-clad ass for the world to see. It earns him a couple of cheers from across the club.

He then does a body wave against the pole, his lithe body arching easily into the move, and more cheers erupt in the club.

It almost seems like every single person in the club has their eyes on Hijikata, because apart from the music, Gintoki cannot hear anything else—no talking or laughter—but that could also be because he is so gobsmacked at the moment that nothing could possibly distract him.

With only the strength of a single arm, Hijikata hoists himself up into the air, spinning gracefully around the pole. His legs outstretched like a mermaid’s tail, he slowly sinks with each round. As he reaches the bottom, he spreads his legs, allowing himself to land in a perfect split, his glorious ass cheeks jiggling ever so slightly as they touch the floor. He turns to find Gintoki at the bar. Hijikata suppresses a laugh when his eyes meet Gintoki’s, but he quickly composes himself and shoots him a playful wink.

Embarrassed, Gintoki closes his mouth, realising he must have looked like an idiot with it hanging open like that the whole time.

Hijikata slides into a kneeling position, one hand on the pole. He moves his agile body in waves, raising his hips to the beat of the music. The neon lights bounce off the sheen of sweat on Hijikata’s abs, illuminating the way they shift sinfully under his smooth skin as he arches his back towards the pole rhythmically. He lifts his head, and the sweat on his neck draws Gintoki’s attention to the choker wrapped around it. It’s thick, almost like a collar, and the metal ring hanging from its front sways with his movement. Under the choker, his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, and Gintoki mirrors the action, feeling a warmth grow in his belly.

Hijikata rolls his head back front, and uses his arms to slide himself back on his feet. He saunters to the edge of the stage to the screaming crowd beneath him. Without warning, he dives into a lying position and arches his back, lifting his juicy ass into the air. He kicks his legs up and down like a sunbathing babe, and giggles appreciatively as dollar bills fly his way.

Gintoki subconsciously reaches for his own wallet, but then pauses when he remembers what he had told Hijikata beforehand. Cursing under his breath, he retracts his hand and continues watching.

A man standing in front holds out a hundred-dollar bill. People are whooping. Hijikata shifts himself to face the man, and bites down on the bill. He throws a sultry wink to the generous tipper and tucks the note under the strap of his thong with a loud snap.

He starts feeling up his own body, letting his fingers lazily glide against his pierced nipples and down his sides. He shoots Gintoki a face that should be illegal to make outside the bedroom. Gintoki instinctively draws his legs together to hide his hardening cock.

Hijikata notices, his eyes on Gintoki’s crotch. He licks his lips, knowing damn well it would send waves of heat down Gintoki’s pants.

“Bill,” he blurts, more steadily than he expected. His eyes don’t leave the stage, but he hears the bartender slap the receipt on the counter.

“Aw, you’re leaving already, boss?” He asks flatly, his tone completely mismatched with his words. “Hijikata really likes you.”

Gintoki fiddles with the notes in his wallet for far too long, praying the growing flush on his cheeks would go unnoticed by the time he looks up to pay.

He finally slaps a couple notes on the counter.

“Keep the change,” he mutters, too flustered to meet the bartender’s eyes. He gets up and starts walking briskly towards the exit, but not before he hears a distant “come back soon!” from the bartender.

Gintoki just about sprints back home and locks himself in his room. Riding on what’s left of the high from the club, he unzips his pants and starts pumping. Fluttering his eyelids shut, he recalls Hijikata’s slender body moving against the pole, the hypnotising looks he shot in Gintoki’s direction, and the grand finale of him licking his lips sends Gintoki over the edge.

With his heart pounding in his ears and sweat beading on his neck, Gintoki looks down shamefully at his soiled hand.

He shields his eyes with his forearm, still panting, trying to process whatever the fuck that whole ordeal was. He feels as though he’d just been intoxicated by a dangerous drug, and the high was unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

As it turns out, that drug is highly addictive too.

He _has_ to go back again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Hijikata!
> 
> I hope this body-worshipping chapter was an appropriate gift lol


	2. A Horny Man is a Stupid Man

For the next few days, Gintoki cannot, for the life of him, stop thinking about Hijikata. No matter how hard he tries, that lustful gaze flashes through his mind at least 37 times a day. That’s right, Gintoki’s been counting. Because of that sexy bastard, Gintoki hasn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep unless he beat his meat to a slow-motion playback of Hijikata’s pole dance in his head. It’s like he’s gone cold turkey, and all he can think about is his next night off to go get another taste of that man.

Right now, Gintoki is at work, in a daze even though Takasugi is speaking directly to him. He’s talking about accounts and tax refunds or something, but Gintoki’s too preoccupied with thoughts of Hijikata’s nipples to bother processing Takasugi’s words.

“…and this is the invoice for—” Takasugi pauses mid-sentence to slap Gintoki on the head with the stack of papers he’s holding. Gintoki yelps, although he knows he completely deserves it for not paying attention.

“If you zone out one more time I’m telling HR,” Takasugi says, not even bothering to hide his annoyance anymore.

“Fuck you,” Gintoki retorts lamely, snatching the invoice from Takasugi’s hand. He tries to read it, but he can’t make heads or tails of the mess of numbers scrawled on the paper. He feels his attention fade, and shakes his head in an attempt to focus again. He does this about three more times, all while Takasugi is staring in blatant disbelief.

“Are you serious right now?”

Gintoki tosses the invoice on his desk and buries his head in his hands, releasing an agonised sigh.

“Dude,” Takasugi says, shifting in his seat to tower over Gintoki. He takes a deep breath, hoping his next point can somehow find a way through Gintoki’s thick skull. “He’s a fucking _stripper_.”

“No,” Gintoki counters, a bit too defensively. Takasugi is incredulous. Gintoki turns to face him, trying to find words to explain himself, but he quickly realises there are no words that can do justice to Hijikata’s beauty. Takasugi scoffs and shoots Gintoki a look so full of disgust and contempt that Gintoki has to physically restrain himself from breaking the bastard’s nose.

“Enjoy unemployment then, let me know if you need help packing,” Takasugi says coldly, dumping the rest of the papers onto Gintoki’s desk before storming off.

* * *

A few hours later, as the sky darkens after sunset, Gintoki finds himself standing outside the club again. After Takasugi very rudely judged him for his gross incompetence at work, he had been debating for the rest of his shift whether or not to go back to the club tonight. If Hijikata was going to keep violating his thoughts to render him pathetically horny and useless until the next time he visits, he figured he might as well go earlier to alleviate some of his poorly-repressed libido.

With a defeated sigh, Gintoki enters the club.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but the club is definitely way too crowded for 7PM on Tuesday night. Do these people not have jobs? Or families to go home to? But then again, who the hell is he to judge? He’s just some “stupid loser risking job security for a stripper”, in Takasugi’s words anyway.

Gintoki looks around, trying to find Hijikata in the sea of clubbers.

Nothing.

Maybe coming here was a mistake, after all. Besides, Hijikata probably has tons of clients; he wouldn’t even remember Gintoki, let alone recognise him in this crowd. He’s about to turn on his heel and leave when he feels a gentle hand on the small of his back, and then a familiar, intoxicating scent drowns his senses.

“Back again, are we?” a husky voice whispers next to Gintoki’s ear. Something lurches in his stomach, and he feels his gut clench. Gintoki turns to face Hijikata, who is just as attractive as memory serves. He looks at Gintoki with a knowing smile, as if he’s just won an unspoken battle. For some reason, this annoys Gintoki as much as it turns him on.

“Only for a drink,” he says, and turns towards the bar to prove his point. Hijikata doesn’t say anything, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes. He’s got that oversized jacket on, zipped up to reveal only a little bit of his chest. Gintoki wants to unzip it, fling it off the face of the earth…

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Hijikata says, amused, and Gintoki realises he’s been staring. He looks away in embarrassment, heat rising to his cheeks. Hijikata giggles at the sight, and Gintoki’s heart starts pounding like a nervous fangirl.

“Shut up,” he says, with no bite at all. Hijikata wordlessly slips a hand under Gintoki’s arm and leads him towards the bar. Gintoki follows silently, trying not to combust from the fact that Hijikata is _touching_ him.

The bartender notices them approaching and sets down whatever cocktail he was in the middle of making.

“Oh, boss! Welcome back,” he waves. His hand stops mid-air as he squints. “Are you okay boss? You look like you’re in pain.”

“I’m fine,” Gintoki grumbles, annoyed that he’s doing such a terrible job at hiding his emotions and getting called out for it. He takes a seat, and Hijikata follows suit.

“Miss me much?” Hijikata teases, raising his naked leg to slide the tip of his stiletto along Gintoki’s calf under the counter. Gintoki sits up in his stool and crosses his legs away from Hijikata’s feet. It irritates him to no end that Hijikata knows exactly what he’s doing to him, and it’s no help at all that whatever’s left of his self-control is hanging by a thread at this point.

“Don’t be fooled, boss,” the bartender says, in his trademark deadpan voice, sliding a beer across the counter in Gintoki’s direction. He catches it gratefully. “Hijikata hasn’t shut up about you since the first night you came.”

“Zip it, Sogo,” Hijikata snaps, and for the first time ever, Gintoki watches Hijikata lose. Gintoki catches a glimpse of emotion through the crack in his façade, and his heart swells. The victory feels incredible – a breath of fresh air since Gintoki’s been feeling nothing but pathetic since his last visit.

As he watches Hijikata’s ears turn red, he finds himself unable to hide the smile growing on his own face.

“You’ve been talking about me?” Gintoki asks carefully, deciding that it’s safe to probe. Hijikata looks at him thoughtfully, chewing on his bottom lip as he gives Gintoki a once over with hooded eyes. It appears he was quick to recover from his defeat. He leans towards Gintoki on the counter.

“You like that?” he asks breathily, reaching for Gintoki’s tie again. This time, Gintoki doesn’t stop him. Hijikata tugs lightly, bringing Gintoki’s face close to his own. Their lips almost collide. “You like that I can’t stop thinking about you?”

Gintoki can smell cigarettes on his breath, and his brain turns to mush. He swallows hard, hoping to god that Hijikata can’t tell how hopelessly whipped he is. Hijikata’s bedroom eyes trail down to Gintoki’s lips, and he leans in. Gintoki closes his eyes, waiting for their lips to meet.

Instead, soft lips lightly brush against his cheek, before he feels the grip on his tie loosen. He opens his eyes to see that Hijikata is smirking. Gintoki wants to respond, but his mouth is dry as a desert. Not keen on waiting, Hijikata leans over, sliding a hand up Gintoki’s thigh. It rests dangerously close to his crotch, and squeezes. Gintoki barely suppresses a whimper.

“Come again if you want to kiss me,” he says quietly into Gintoki’s ear, and Gintoki feels the tip of a wet tongue against his jaw. With a flirty wink, Hijikata stands up, and Gintoki brazenly stares at his butt as he walks away.

He reluctantly turns back to the bar as Hijikata disappears into the crowd, and realises that his grip on the beer bottle is iron—his knuckles are white from the pressure and he can’t feel his fingers—it’s a miracle how the bottle hasn’t completely shattered in his grasp yet.

He hastily brings the bottle to his lips and chugs, big gulp after big gulp until he runs out of breath. He slams the bottle on the counter, now almost empty, and pants for dear life.

“My, my,” he hears Sogo say. “You have it _bad_ for him.”

Gintoki replies with a glare, still too busy catching his breath. Sogo shrugs.

“It’s normal,” he says, wiping down a glass, “Hijikata has men and women falling to their knees whether they like it or not. He’s the top dancer after all.”

Gintoki mulls over this. He didn’t know Hijikata was the most popular dancer in the club, but it’s no surprise. He should have guessed from the overwhelming crowd response the first time he came. Hijikata is without a doubt attractive, and _unbelievably_ charming, and Gintoki hates that he is not immune to it in the least.

“Err… I’ll tell you what, boss,” Sogo breaks the silence, growing uncomfortable and extremely confused at how Gintoki’s eyes are staring so intensely ahead at nothing in particular. “Hijikata doesn’t accept payment if he’s trying to get laid. You can try tipping him later.”

Gintoki thinks for a moment, and finishes the rest of his beer, which has turned disgustingly lukewarm from the warmth of his hand. He had explicitly told Hijikata before that he would never spend his money on strippers, but after hearing what Sogo said, he does want to know if his tip would be accepted. Then again, tipping Hijikata would make him seem like a hypocrite, and even worse, it would be a declaration of surrender—that he has lost the unspoken battle of pride that the two of them have been fighting from the moment they locked eyes.

“Listen, boss, I know you’re in love and planning your proposal to Hijikata in your head, and I don’t wanna be rude about this but,” Sogo says quietly, snapping Gintoki out of his very important inner dilemma. It’s a very casual jibe, but his blank tone is unnerving. Gintoki feels like he’s about to pop a vein. “—you look like you’re having a stroke and it’s scaring the other patrons. Tone it back a couple notches, will ya?”

Sogo takes the empty beer bottle from Gintoki’s hand and gives him two very awkward, heavy-handed, condescending pats on the shoulder.

Gintoki grits his teeth. For someone with such an innocuous exterior, Sogo sure knows how to piss a guy off.

* * *

When it’s finally time for Hijikata to dance, Gintoki makes his way through the crowd to the front of the stage. Hijikata smirks knowingly when their eyes meet, and saunters towards the pole to begin his dance.

Between his stunts and spins, he makes sure to take the time to blow a few kisses Gintoki’s way. Gintoki is so mesmerised and horny that when Hijikata dives to the edge of the stage to collect his money, he almost forgets to take his wallet out.

As Hijikata draws closer to his side of the stage, Gintoki prepares a ten-dollar bill. Hijikata flirts with the rest of the clubbers, receiving tips with his teeth, throwing a few winks around, baring his ass and letting them stuff their notes in his briefs.

When he finally comes round, Gintoki simply holds out his bill stiffly, not unlike a starving Oliver Twist asking for more soup in his bowl. Hijiakta is clearly amused, but he kneels over Gintoki anyway.

“Aww, what’s this? For me?” he asks, breathless from the dancing. Up close, Gintoki can see his sweat glisten with each rise and fall of his chest.

“Money,” Gintoki replies stupidly, too distracted by the flush spread across Hijikata’s cheekbones to come up with anything smarter. Hijikata lies on his stomach and props his chin up on his elbows. His face is dangerously close to Gintoki’s, and the heat radiating off his body appears to be contagious, because Gintoki can feel himself heating up too.

“I thought you didn’t spend money on hookers,” Hijikata taunts, grabbing Gintoki by the tie again. He really needs to take it off before he comes next time.

Gintoki has no comeback. He motions for Hijikata to take the money—a silent admission of defeat. Hijikata smiles at him, but makes no move to grab the bill. Instead, he stands up, and pushes Gintoki’s hand away with his heel.

“Keep it, lover boy,” Hijikata shouts, not unkindly, over the music, and turns back to the pole. Gintoki feels his heart leap—Hijikata rejected his tip, just as Sogo said he would.

He watches on as Hijikata twirls his lean body around the pole, arching his back and pointing his toes like a trained ballerina. The barbells in his nipples glint tantalisingly under the dim lights, and Gintoki wonders what they would taste like against his tongue, now that he knows he actually stands a chance.

* * *

When Gintoki finally leaves the club, it’s almost midnight. Despite being once again confronted by the harshness of reality, and the very real chance that he might be fired soon, Gintoki could not be happier. He’s still giddy from entertaining the possibility that he could have Hijikata all to himself, and as he stumbles down the street, he tries his best not to grin too widely, just in case people _really_ think he’s having a stroke.

Until he returns to see Hijikata again, Gintoki is sure that the withdrawal symptoms will make a nasty comeback and render him completely useless at work. But for now, he is okay with it, because the thrill of having Hijikata tug on his tie and tease him with half-lidded eyes is exhilarating, and Gintoki decides that the waves of blood it sends rushing to his cock are worth the screaming and shouting he’s going to get from Takasugi for the rest of the week.

_Come again if you want to kiss me._

As the words play on loop in Gintoki’s head, he is certain that they are enough to tide him over until the next visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a challenge to write! I hope you guys enjoyed it regardless :)


	3. Am I in Love, or Is He Just Hot?

When Gintoki returns to the club on Saturday night, it’s swamped with people. He barely manages to squeeze through to the stage, let alone find the man who has managed to reduce him to nothing but a human-shaped lump of raging hormones for the past week.

In the distance, he sees a crowd more densely packed than the rest of the club. There are whoops and cheers, and he figures that’s where he needs to go. The crowd is gathered around a table full of ageing men in suits, who all look like they probably have wives and kids to return to after the night is over.

And of course, the reason why the crowd was there in the first place is because his beloved Hijikata is giving these men a private show; well, not so private, now that he thinks about it. Hijikata is seated in one of their laps, grinding his hips into the man’s crotch. What pisses Gintoki off about this is that the geezer on the receiving end is staring at Hijikata’s body so fucking creepily, the most vile and lecherous grin plastered on his fat face.

Hijikata’s face is alarmingly close to his, and the bastard repeatedly purses his lips at Hijikata, hoping to get a kiss. Instead of punching him into next week like a normal person, Hijikata giggles and shies away, as if he’s _enjoying_ this, and it annoys Gintoki to no end. Who the fuck does this ugly sleazebag think he is? It should be a federal crime for this guy to be anywhere _near_ Hijikata, let alone wanting a _kiss_ from him. In fact, that’s exactly what Gintoki came for, and he is no way in hell going to allow this pervert to steal what’s rightfully his. If anyone should be graced with the good fortune of getting a lap dance and a kiss from Hijikata, it should be Gintoki and no one else.

The man lifts his offending, wrinkled hand to roughly grope Hijikata’s left butt cheek. Hijikata visibly flinches at the contact, and Gintoki sees red. He elbows his way through the crowd, receiving a few disgruntled cusses from clubgoers. Before he can storm to the front and save Hijikata from the scumbag, their eyes meet, and Hijikata frowns.

He shakes his head ever so slightly, and Gintoki pauses in his step.

“I said no touching,” he pouts, shoving the guy’s chest (or man tits, to be more precise) playfully. The guy whips out his wallet and takes out a thick wad of cash.

“Don’t complain now,” he croaks, holding it out to Hijikata. Still pouting, he accepts the money and lightly kisses the creep on the cheek.

“Thank you, Sadasada-sama,” he chirps, getting off his lap. As he leaves, Sadasada slaps him hard on the ass, and Hijikata winces in pain. The group of men share a hearty laugh at the crass act, and the crowd around their table disperses. Gintoki rushes forward in concern, reaching out to offer Hijikata some support.

“Are you alright?!” Gintoki asks, very clearly distressed. Hijikata rubs circles on his ass, holding on to Gintoki’s arm to regain his balance. Gintoki turns sharply to glare at Sadasada’s back, wishing his eyes could bore holes through it. He’s got half a mind to go beat the sick bastard to death.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Hijikata says lightly, laughing the pain away.

“Fuck that guy,” Gintoki says, his voice low, trembling. Hijikata notices his anger right away, and smirks. Gintoki swears he caught the quickest flash of relief, _gratitude_ , in Hijikata’s eyes as he brings a hand up to Gintoki’s cheek.

“Aww, were you jealous?” he teases, running a hand up Gintoki’s chest.

“NO!” Gintoki yells, and a few heads turn. People are judging and shunning him at this point, but he has to justify his anger. He wasn’t jealous, _obviously_. He knows this is all part of Hijikata’s job, it’s just that that one particular guy was being such a gross pervert that it pissed Gintoki off. Yeah, that’s exactly it. Not because he’s jealous or anything like that, not at all. “It’s just— I—” he tries to explain himself, unable to find the words. A vein throbs in his neck.

“Hey, hey,” Hijikata says, more seriously this time. Gintoki looks him in his steel-blue eyes. “Relax, I can take care of myself.”

Gintoki is still worried, but he can’t argue with that. Hijikata’s the expert in this industry after all, not Gintoki. He nods reluctantly. Hijikata watches, the corners of his lips turned up in amusement.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not—”

Hijikata brings his finger up and presses it against Gintoki’s lips to shush him. He moves closer, his bare chest brushing against Gintoki’s.

“If you want your own lap dance, all you have to do is ask,” Hijikata whispers seductively into Gintoki’s ear, before tugging at his earlobe with his teeth. Gintoki had not expected this at all—he’s happy enough to bask in the privilege of having Hijikata shoot him bedroom eyes while he’s pole-dancing, and maybe receive that kiss he’s been promised, but his very own lap dance? Just the thought of it sends a rush of heat down Gintoki’s pants.

Without waiting for a response, Hijikata holds Gintoki’s hand gently in his own and starts walking. Gintoki wants to protest, but his resolve dies in his throat—there’s no point in pretending he doesn’t want this. When it comes to Hijikata, Gintoki wears his heart on his sleeve. Or his dick. He can’t tell anymore.

And so, he follows, like a dumb sailor allowing himself to be spellbound by the alluring siren.

Hijikata leads him through a door at the back of the club, and into what appears to be one of the few private karaoke rooms along the aisle. He locks the door the moment they’re inside, and turns on the dim lights.

He closes in on Gintoki, hands light on his chest. Gintoki backs up slowly until the back of his knees meet the edge of a couch. Hijikata smirks and pushes him gently, forcing him to fall back onto the couch.

He nudges open Gintoki’s thighs with his shin, and rests his knee in the space between Gintoki’s legs, just barely missing his crotch.

Gintoki gulps. This is really happening.

Hijikata leans his weight forward and places his hands on both sides of Gintoki’s head. He gently tilts Gintoki’s head up to face him, and smiles.

“Now you have me all to yourself,” he whispers, “happy?”

Gintoki has no idea how Hijikata has the stamina to act like this for multiple nights in a row, with so many different people. Yet, somehow, he feels… _special_. He can tell the difference in the way Hijikata laughs when he’s with other men. With Gintoki, his smile always reaches his eyes; the glint of mischief glowing under his winged eyeliner and the genuine cheekiness in the crinkles of his eyes make Gintoki’s heart ache in pure fondness. He doesn’t see that happen when Hijikata’s receiving tips on the dance floor, or when he was appeasing Sadasada.

“Relax,” Hijikata says, trying not to laugh at Gintoki’s perplexed expression. Gintoki blushes, embarrassed at himself. Hijikata gets off the couch and turns his back to Gintoki. He’s wearing the tiniest, tightest pair of briefs Gintoki has ever seen, the same choker he wore on the first night, and nothing else. He bends over, baring his sweet ass for Gintoki to admire.

As he rolls his hips and moves his body in sinful waves, Gintoki drinks it all in, squirming on the couch and trying to ignore the pooling warmth in his stomach.

Hijikata turns around and frowns at this, lifting one leg over Gintoki’s thighs to trap him where he sits.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” he says, grinding his ass up Gintoki’s chest. Gintoki holds his breath as Hijikata slides down slowly, slowly, until the back of his ass grazes ever so slightly against Gintoki’s clothed ball sack.

Hijikata holds onto Gintoki’s knees to support himself, and starts rolling his hips, painfully slowly. Gintoki hisses, lolling his head back because this is too much for his poor soul. The sight of Hijikata’s small waist shifting in front of him, the curve of his ass grinding up against his hips, isn’t something new to Gintoki. He’s definitely gotten off to a fantasy of this exact scenario in the shower before, but to have it actually happen, accompanied with the hot friction between his legs that is far too much and not nearly enough all at once—Gintoki has to dig his nails into the couch to stop himself from jumping Hijikata and taking him raw right there and then.

Hijikata grinds harder, moving his hips more daringly this time, his ass going over the outline of Gintoki’s hardening cock. Gintoki steels himself, biting his lower lip to stop himself from moaning. Before he can get used to this amazing feeling, Hijikata stops and gets up, and Gintoki growls lowly at the loss of contact.

Hijikata turns around to face Gintoki, his face flushed pink, eyes looking more wanton than ever. He straddles Gintoki’s hips and sits, slinging his arms loosely around Gintoki’s neck. Up close, Hijikata looks even more irresistible. His slender neck, accentuated by the choker, his bangs just shy of those long lashes, that dark eyeshadow bringing out the blue in his eyes—Gintoki wants to ravish all of him.

But before he can finish admiring the pretty painting in front of him, Hijikata moves his hips, and Gintoki throws his head back in surprise. Somehow this position makes the grinding far more intense, and Gintoki had not expected it at all. As they rock their hips together, slow and languid, Gintoki can feel himself growing bigger and harder, precum hot and sticky on his boxers.

He wants so badly to put his hand on Hijikata’s thigh, run it up the contours of his abs and over his nipples, but he doesn’t. He refuses to be the same as that grubby bastard; Gintoki is better than that. Instead, he bites down on his tongue, knuckles turning white as he tightens his grip on the couch.

“Look at me,” HIjikata commands softly. Gintoki can hear him panting now. He feels a gentle finger tilt his head up, and he cracks opens his eyes to meet Hijikata’s hooded ones. “What’s your name, handsome?”

Gintoki’s brain just about short-circuits at the question. Of _course_ Hijikata doesn’t know his name, he’s never even introduced himself before. He feels like the dumbest man alive. Just what has Hijikata been referring to him as up to this point? Perm head? Broke salaryman? Does that mean that cheeky bastard Sogo has a nickname for him too? He hopes to god it’s something flattering, or at least not too degrading.

Thankfully, Hijikata shakes him out of his shame by leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. They are so close, and the grinding makes it nearly impossible for Gintoki to think straight.

“Gintoki,” he finally sputters.

“Gintoki…” Hijikata whispers slowly, trying to sound it out. Hearing his name in that husky voice almost drives Gintoki crazy. He brings his arm up to cover his blushing mess of a face. Hijikata gently pries his arm away and leans in.

“I like you, Gintoki,” he sighs, pushing his hips down hard on Gintoki’s crotch. Gintoki’s hips buck at the sudden pressure, his pupils blown wide with ecstasy. What the hell was that? A confession? Gintoki can’t even begin to process those words when it feels like every square inch of his skin is on fire.

He’s fully erect now, and he can feel that Hijikata’s rock hard too. Gintoki is no virgin, but somehow when it comes to Hijikata, just dry humping like a couple of horny 14-year-olds feels more sensual and erotic than any sex Gintoki’s ever had before. His cock is straining painfully against his pants, and the bulge in Hijikata’s briefs stretches the fabric dangerously thin.

“You’re killing me…” he groans, screwing his eyes shut. Hijikata laughs breathily, burying his hands in Gintoki’s hair.

“Gintoki…” he says again, now knowing that it works like a charm in turning the idiot on. He grinds harder, faster, feeling himself close to completion as his barely-clothed dick scrapes roughly against Gintoki’s. He moves erratically, pants coming out soft and shallow. He digs his fingers into Gintoki’s scalp, tugging at his fluffy hair, pulling his head close to his chest. Gintoki gets a whiff of that intoxicating cologne, his sweat, his scent, and it drives him even closer to the edge. Hijikata lowers his head, locking eyes with Gintoki and pulling on his hair to make sure he doesn’t look away. His cheeks are flushed red, drool running down the corner of his lips. Their faces are so agonisingly close, and Gintoki can feel Hijikata’s breath, hot and steamy against his mouth. His half-lidded eyes tease Gintoki—they lure him in, lewd and inviting, challenging him even though they know he can’t touch. It takes all of Gintoki’s willpower not to lean in and kiss him.

“Gin—” Hijikata gasps, his body convulsing in waves of pleasure, moaning quietly to himself as a wet spot grows on his briefs. Just the sight alone brings Gintoki to his own completion too, groaning as he feels every pore on his scalp break a sweat, heat coursing through his entire body.

“Gintoki,” Hijikata pants, collapsing onto Gintoki. Their chests heave in unison, heartbeats echoing loudly in their ears, still fuzzy with static. Hijikata pushes against Gintoki’s chest and steadies himself on Gintoki’s lap.

He pulls open the elastic of his briefs and sticks a couple trembling fingers in. When his fingers come up again, they’re wet and sticky, a thick string of cum between them. He brings his fingers towards Gintoki, who is more than happy to lick them clean, but then changes his mind and retracts his hand. He inserts the soiled digits into his own mouth, eyelids fluttering shut as he sucks on them shamelessly. When they’re clean, he removes them from his lips and sticks his tongue out, now coated in his own seed.

Gintoki swallows hard as Hijikata leans in, inviting him to get a taste. He finally gives in, ready to accept the kiss he has long waited for. He latches his lips hungrily on Hijikata’s tongue, swiping it with his own to taste the man. He’s bitter, earthy, and oh so fucking delicious. Hijikata kisses back, open-mouthed and messy, grazing his tongue along Gintoki’s teeth. He feels Gintoki’s own hot, wet tongue press against his swollen lips and explore every crevice in his mouth, and he cannot help but whine. Gintoki sucks a breath in through his nose and presses harder against Hijikata, tilting his head to kiss him deeper.

“Ngh—” Hijikata grunts in surprise, but he lets him, kissing back just as hard, sucking on Gintoki’s tongue and brushing against it with his own. It’s one of the filthiest, most obscene kisses Gintoki’s ever had the privilege of receiving—exploding with weeks of unbearable yearning and repressed lust deep within them both, a declaration of their unabashed desire for each other, and Gintoki wouldn’t have it any other way.

They finally break apart when they’re out of breath, a stand of saliva hanging between their glistening, swollen lips. They both gasp for air, panting as they recover from that insane high. Hijikata runs his hand through Gintoki’s sweaty bangs and cups his cheek.

“How did I taste?” he asks tenderly, as if they didn’t just share the raunchiest kiss in the history of kisses.

“Good,” Gintoki replies anyway, turning to press a chaste kiss to Hijikata’s palm, and then back to smile at him contently. He catches Hijikata’s eyes widen, redness rising to his ears at the unexpected affection.

“You’re sweet,” he chuckles softly, kissing Gintoki’s forehead, “but I’m sorry darling, I need to get back to work now.”

Gintoki watches as Hijikata gets off his lap and walks to the door, too spent to get up just yet. He hates to see Hijikata leave, but watching that ass jiggle as he saunters away is truly a sight for sore eyes.

Hijikata grabs the door handle and turns back to Gintoki one last time.

“Washroom’s to the left if you want to clean up,” he says, and Gintoki nods gratefully. Hijikata opens the door to leave, but then pauses in his step again.

“By the way,” he says, and Gintoki can see a tinge of pink on his cheeks, even in the dark. “You can touch next time. I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Hijikata blows him a kiss, and leaves.

Before the door completely swings shut, Gintoki is already taking apart every single word in that sentence and letting it sink in that whatever the fuck just happened just now—the best sexual encounter to date in Gintoki’s miserable, boring life—was definitely going to happen again, and when it does, _he can touch_.

He releases out a long sigh, letting his head flop back on the couch. He’s sweaty and gross, and the situation in his pants is an uncomfortable, damp mess, but he’s never felt better. Who gives a fuck if he gets fired? He doesn’t care anymore. If he can land Hijikata of all people, he’s definitely doing _something_ right with his life.

And with a spring in his step, Gintoki heads home, beaming like a kid on Christmas about the fact that he doesn’t have to masturbate tonight, because the man of his dreams has already helped him with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter :)
> 
> Also, congratulations to my dearest Maru for hitting 5k followers on twitter!! Do show her some love [here](https://twitter.com/marrbl_)!


	4. Love is a Game, and I'm Losing

Gintoki watches the day-old water in his paper cup ripple beat after beat, not unlike the ominous foreshadowing of an approaching Godzilla, and the inevitable destruction of the city.

In this case, Godzilla takes the form of a short, angry man, by the name of Takasugi Shinsuke. In fact, this is the fourteenth time Godzilla has stormed past Gintoki’s cubicle, with footsteps way heavier than a man his size should be able to manage.

He’s been discussing something incredibly serious with their department head, and Gintoki’s cubicle, very unfortunately, lies right smack in the middle of Takasugi’s cubicle and Shoyo’s office.

He hears the office door slam, flimsy plastic blinds rattling against it, before Takasugi starts marching like a fucking Queen’s Guard back to his cubicle. Gintoki swivels in his chair just in time to see Takasugi aggressively flipping through a thick stack of papers and cursing under his breath. Gintoki would laugh and gloat, but he’s sick of getting rudely woken up from his work naps, especially when most of them consisted of quality dreams featuring his soon-to-be lover, Hijikata.

As Takasugi walks with his head practically buried in his mounds of reports, Gintoki sticks his foot out and trips him. He holds his breath like a child on his first roller coaster ride, anticipating the moment Takasugi loses his grip on the papers and falls face flat on the ground, receipts gracefully fluttering around his body like confetti. Alas, he merely stumbles, and quickly regains his footing. _Must be the low centre of gravity_ , Gintoki grumbles unhappily to himself.

Takasugi turns around to glare at Gintoki.

“Are you five?” he asks, a bit too loudly for an office environment. Gintoki faintly hears Sakamoto’s muffled laughter in the distance.

“You’re the one stomping around like a kid who didn’t get the Takara Tomy Beyblade Burst B-149 GT for his birthday,” Gintoki bites back, folding his arms and trying not to look too smug about his flawless comeback.

“Why the fuck—” Takasugi pinches the bridge of his nose, “—you know what, I don’t even want to know why you’re so familiar with children’s’ toys.”

“It’s a respectable market,” Gintoki replies seriously, examining a fresh booger on his pinkie. “But that’s a conversation for another time.”

Takasugi simply stares at Gintoki, unsure if he should feel disgusted or worried about the way that he is.

“This is not a fucking military base, stop marching around,” Gintoki finally snaps, straight to the point. Takasugi raises an accusing finger at Gintoki, his face twisting into all sorts of angry.

“You of all people don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m only this stressed out because YOU fucked up.”

“Oh, right,” Gintoki mumbles. He had completely let that slip his mind. But was it his fault that he accidentally typed an extra ‘0’ at the end of ¥100,000 when he was billing some random company? Numbers are confusing.

“Netflix is NOT some random company! Numbers are confusing?! How did you graduate business school?”

Did Gintoki say that out loud? Shit.

“Hey, it’s not my fault their secretary read the cheque and STILL processed it! That Yamazaki or Jimmy or whatever his name is should be fired!”

“You’re only still here because Shoyo doesn’t know about your pathetic stripper situation,” Takasugi threatens, not amused at all.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gintoki flicks his booger at Takasugi, who yelps and jumps out of the way. He scowls and reaches out to smack Gintoki on the head. Gintoki smears his snotty fingers on Takasugi’s arm, successfully earning a repulsed shriek from the short man, before he feels a hand yank hard on his hair.

“Boys,” a gentle voice says, softly but firmly. Gintoki and Takasugi pause in their catfight to face Yoshida Shoyo himself. He’s smiling—way too kindly— and it sends shivers up both their spines. They quickly release each other and sheepishly straighten out their hair and clothes.

“Behave yourselves, alright?” he asks ever so benevolently, with the slightest tilt of his head. The smile stays plastered on his face, eyes crinkling—the way a mother would smile at her child threateningly for eating before the guest does.

The moment he walks out of sight, Takasugi roughly grabs Gintoki by the tie.

“You’re gonna pay for this, asshole.”

“That move is reserved for Hijikata only,” Gintoki snaps in annoyance, shoving him away. “Also, your breath stinks.”

“Shut up about Hijikata, you sleazy bastard,” Takasugi hisses, grabbing his papers from the floor.

“Maybe if you had a love life you wouldn’t be so fucking bitter all the time.”

“That’s beneath me.”

“Really! Your height says otherwise.”

“Fuck you.”

That last insult had no bite to it at all. Takasugi’s keeps scanning through the reports, his eyes darting way too quickly to actually be reading anything. What a lousy actor.

“Let’s go tonight,” Gintoki decides to say, generously sparing him the humiliation of publicly calling him out on his very obvious love-problems.

Takasugi finally looks up at him.

“The club, let’s go tonight,” Gintoki says again, “you won’t regret it.”

Takasugi scoffs, turning away. “I’m not interested.”

“300 yen says I’m right,” Gintoki insists, leaning back confidently in his chair. There’s no way he’s losing. No one is immune to Hijikata’s charm.

“300? That’s a lot to you?” Takasugi sneers, rolling his eyes dramatically. He stands up to leave Gintoki’s cubicle. “You’re pathetic, Gintoki.”

Gintoki shrugs coolly in response as he storms away. He knows Takasugi needs this. Half the reason why he’s so damn angry all the time is because he hasn’t emptied his balls in weeks.

It’s not even a minute before Gintoki hears the faint sound of Godzilla stomping back.

“Make it 3000 and I’ll _think_ about it.”

* * *

“I want soba.”

Gintoki blinks, the almond he tossed in the air missing his mouth by an inch and falling on the floor.

“Excuse me?” he asks, glaring at a hunched-over Takasugi, furiously typing on his laptop.

“Soba.”

“I’m not buying you food tonight, ingrate,” Gintoki says incredulously, his eyebrows disappearing above his bangs. “You can simply feast your eyes on Hijikata’s glorious ass.”

Takasugi tears his eyes away from the screen, face twisted in pure disdain. “Is this how you’ve been living since you lost the bet? Just feeding off your own horniness?”

“Trust me, there’s nothing else you’d wanna eat,” Gintoki says, patting him on the shoulder like an experienced veteran. “Now hurry up and finish that report, my love is waiting for me.”

“Your love? Seducing you is literally his job,” Takasugi laughs, a bit too condescendingly for Gintoki’s liking. But before he can retort, Takasugi slams his laptop shut and stands up to stretch.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Gintoki smirks, getting up himself, eager to see the look of disbelief on Takasugi’s face when Hijikata eye-fucks Gintoki from the stage.

They walk to the club, Takasugi dragging his feet and Gintoki prancing circles around him like an excited puppy, rushing and nagging his colleague to move faster.

“Okay, okay, okay, we’re here,” Gintoki jabbers, roughly shifting Takasugi by the shoulders to make him face the building.

“Dude, will you calm down,” Takasugi says flatly, already regretting his decision to come along.

Gintoki pulls open the tinted glass doors and shoves Takasugi into the club, letting the bass-heavy music engulf him whole. The crowd is massive today, everyone gathered around the stage. There’s a female dancer on stage, twirling skilfully around the pole in a revealing kimono. Her body is great—she’s tall, her boobs are a good size, she’s beautiful despite the scar on her cheek (maybe even more beautiful because of it), and the way her hair is held up by kunai is undeniably sexy—but she’s no match for Hijikata. As her performance reaches an end, the crowd claps and cheers for her, and Takasugi follows, more out of courtesy than anything.

As she leaves the stage, Gintoki recognises a more familiar figure saunter up the steps. The crowd goes insane, cheering and whooping so loudly that Takasugi looks visibly startled.

Hijikata grabs the pole and walks circles around it, blowing kisses to the crowd and winking at his regulars. His ass jiggles with every step, working its magic even under the taut stretch of his fishnets. Takasugi turns around to look at Gintoki, gaping like a fish out of water.

“Him?” he mouths, pointing aggressively towards the stage, almost like he can’t believe Gintoki actually wasn’t lying about Hijikata being a real person. Gintoki shrugs easily, shooting him the smuggest, most shit-eating grin in the world.

“I told you, there’s nothing else you’d wanna eat.”

Takasugi kicks Gintoki’s shin in retort, but it lacks the strength that usually sends Gintoki writhing on the floor in pain. Takasugi is so distracted, he doesn’t even notice Gintoki sniggering to himself. That 3000 yen was his to keep. Too easy.

Hijikata’s skin glitters under the stage lights, and even though he’s standing a few feet away from the stage, Takasugi can see every shift in his muscles—the way his biceps flex when he hoists himself onto the pole, the way his back muscles move as he hikes himself further up, the way his abs rise and fall as he pants, rolling in slow, pulsating waves.

As Hijikata spins on the pole, Gintoki whistles, and successfully catches his attention. They lock eyes. Gintoki doesn’t know if it’s a trick of the light, but the fiery gaze Hijikata was sporting seems to soften as his lips curl into a shy smile. Gintoki’s heart swells. He waves excitedly, slapping Takasugi on the arm to look.

And then immediately after, for some strange reason, Hijikata’s smile drops. His eyes dart between Gintoki and Takasugi, before quickly averting to focus on his dance. _Weird_ , Gintoki thinks, his hand dropping lamely to his side, but Hijikata drops into a split and all the blood in Gintoki’s brain rushes to his dick. He’ll leave the thinking for later.

People are throwing money on stage, and Hijikata collects them all, bowing in thanks and flirting with clubgoers. Gintoki is disappointed that his dance today was so short, but it’s alright. He’ll get special treatment later, anyway. Hijikata leaves the stage, and Gintoki’s ready to turn around and head to the bar to have a little one-on-one time with him, but then the crowd cheers even louder—Hijikata struts back up, this time with a chair. He places the chair in the middle of the stage, and people are rushing to the front, holding out stacks of cash, begging to be picked. But Hijikata doesn’t look around for the highest bidder; he looks as though he’s already made his choice. And Gintoki is not one to brag, but he can’t help but assume that it’s him.

As expected, Hijikata walks off the stage and makes his way steadily towards Gintoki, the crowd parting for him like the Red Sea did for Moses. Hijikata stares straight at Gintoki, eyes hooded and inviting. Gintoki’s heart is pounding in his ears, but he puffs his chest proudly, making sure to sneer at Takasugi for good measure before he gets whisked away by his muse.

Just as Hijikata is about to approach Gintoki, he turns to face Takasugi instead, and slides a hand up his chest.

_What?_

Gintoki feels air sucked out of his lungs, as if a ghost had sucker-punched him in the gut.

Hijikata slides a finger along Takasugi’s jaw, tilting his chin up to take a better look at his face.

“May I?” he asks, smiling very dangerously at Takasugi.

“Uhh…” Takasugi turns his head to Gintoki, as if asking for permission. His face is so red and sweaty that Gintoki almost wants to laugh. Almost. If not for the fact that he’s absolutely seething. His eyes are open so wide that they hurt. He cannot even begin to process what the _hell_ is happening right now.

“Come on,” Hijikata whines, pressing his almost-naked body against Takasugi’s, lips tickling the shell of his ear, “you know you want it.”

Takasugi nods timidly, too flustered to say anything, and Hijikata smiles, pulling him away by the hand.

Gintoki wants to stop him, but he can’t move. He just stands, rooted in place as he watches Hijikata spread his legs and sit lightly on Takasugi’s lap, just as he had done to Gintoki just days ago. He slings his arms around Takasugi’s nape and starts grinding his hips. The audience loves it. Takasugi looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel. It’s so funny and Gintoki is so, so mad that he isn’t doubling over in laughter right now. He’s about to turn on his heel and leave when he catches Hijikata glancing at him, the playful glint in his eyes completely gone. As if he’s challenging Gintoki. It pisses Gintoki off that he even has the nerve to pull something like that, but two can play at that game. Gintoki glares right back. If Hijikata wants to make this a staring contest, Gintoki is not going to be the one to break eye contact.

And as if Hijikata can hear his thoughts, he grabs Takasugi’s hand, which was very respectfully squeezing the edge of the chair, and places it on his ass—all while maintaining eye contact with Gintoki.

As the crowd goes wild, Gintoki feels something sink in his stomach as he accepts his crushing defeat. He lowers his head, blinks away tears of frustration, and makes his way straight to the bar, fully intending to die of alcohol poisoning tonight.

“SOGO!” Gintoki yells, his voice booming over the music. He storms ahead so intensely that everyone else scurries away from the bar.

Sogo turns around, eyes dead as ever. It’s impressive how little he gives a fuck, honestly, but Gintoki has more important things to worry about right now.

“Not very nice of you to scare away all my customers like that, boss,” he says flatly. Gintoki completely ignores him.

“Does that son of a bitch do that all the time?”

“Which son of a bitch?”

“Don’t.”

Sogo realises that Gintoki is serious. He silently opens a bottle of beer and slides it over to him.

“Are you mad because Hijikata didn’t pick you for his lap dance?”

A few heads turn at Sogo’s question, trying to stifle their chuckles. Humiliating. Sogo is a true-blue bastard for making him sound like a spoiled man-child, and Gintoki is not having it right now. He slams his fist on the counter, making sure to lower his voice this time.

“My colleague has been teasing me for weeks because I like Hijikata, and I brought him tonight to prove that I wasn’t lying when I said the feeling is mutual, and that bastard Hijikata went and gave him a lap dance instead of me.”

Sogo isn’t really sure how he’s supposed to respond to this. Something tells him he’s going to get yelled at no matter what he says.

“Err… maybe he’s hotter than you?” he tries.

Gintoki flares his nostrils at the preposterous statement.

“HE’S A MIDGET WITH AN EMO HAIRCUT, SOGO! I’M SURPRISED HIJIKATA COULD EVEN SPOT HIM IN THAT CROWD! I’M SURPRISED THE BOUNCER EVEN LET HIM IN! I WOULD’VE THOUGHT HE WAS A LOST KINDERGARTENER WHO GOT SEPARATED FROM HIS PARENTS!”

Sogo raises his eyebrows, as if Gintoki had just screamed insistently that the Earth was flat.

“He’s just a little whore who gets off on toying with people’s feelings then, is that it?”

For some reason, that’s the thing that grabs Sogo’s attention.

“Woah, Hijikata is a lot of things, but a sadistic whore is not on that list. He’s probably the biggest prude out of all the dancers,” Sogo says, “he doesn’t even have sex with his regulars, no matter how rich they are.”

Sogo pauses to think for a while.

“I mean he lets them grope his ass every now and then, but that’s as far as it goes with him.”

This is news to Gintoki. That means he really was getting special treatment.

“Okay, so why the fuck did he let my colleague grab his ass free of charge?”

“That’s surprising,” Sogo says, very unsurprised-ly. Gintoki wonders if he’s secretly a robot. “I don’t know, boss. Maybe you pissed him off. Hijikata is a very petty person, you know. It’s insufferable.”

What the hell could Gintoki have done to piss Hijikata off? He instantly regrets smiling and waving at him like a stupid dog minutes ago.

Gintoki feels a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Where the fuck did you go?”

He turns to face a breathless Takasugi, cheeks still flushed from the dance, Gintoki assumes, very resentfully.

“Why’s your face all twisted? Are you constipated?”

“Shut up,” Gintoki grumbles and swats his hand away. He needs to focus and try to think of what he did to piss Hijikata off.

“Boss, is this the guy you were talking about?” Sogo asks from behind the counter.

“You were talking about me?”

“Boss, he’s the same height as me.”

“Did you go around calling me a midget again, asshole?”

“Boss, tell me honestly, do you think I’m a midget too?”

“Will you two shut _up_ ,” Gintoki groans, burying his head in his hands. He does not have the energy to deal with this frivolous banter right now.

“Well,” Takasugi says, all chirpy and annoying, and plops onto the stool next to Gintoki. “The lap dance was amazing, thank you for asking.”

Gintoki offers him a half-hearted glare.

“We’re leaving,” he says, voice firm. Before Takasugi can protest, Gintoki grabs him by the tie and drags him off the bar stool.

“That beer wasn’t on the house, you know,” Sogo says before Gintoki can get too far.

He sticks his hand in his pocket in annoyance and throws some loose change on the counter.

“Keep the change,” he says suavely, and leaves the club with Takasugi stumbling behind him.

At the bar, Sogo sourly counts the mess of coins and notes Gintoki had so charmingly left behind, swatting stray receipts and lint out the way.

The bastard was 300 yen short.

* * *

As Gintoki and Takasugi walk outside the club, Takasugi teases the absolute shit out of Gintoki, his encounter with Hijikata leaving him woozy and unfiltered.

“Did you really think he was gonna marry you?” he laughs (or cackles, more accurately, like the evil bridge troll that he is).

“He’s doing this on purpose,” Gintoki says, more to himself than anything.

“Oh, okay Sherlock Holmes. I’m so sorry you’ve finally deduced that it's part of his job to seduce people.”

Gintoki clenches his fist. Takasugi is always annoying, but it’s going to take all of Gintoki’s willpower to stop himself from socking him in the face tonight.

“Okay, okay, stop looking so defeated,” Takasugi says, slapping Gintoki carelessly on the back. He gestures towards a small restaurant ahead. “Come on, I’ll treat you to dinner.”

“No thanks, I’m not hungry,” Gintoki mutters bitterly, like a child who hasn’t forgiven his mother for not buying that cool toy in the shop window just now. “I’m going home.”

He continues trudging forward, hands in his pockets and head hung low.

Fine. If Hijikata wants to act like this, Gintoki will give him what he deserves. He’ll come up with a plan that will make Hijikata regret even _looking_ at other men. Sogo said Hijikata was petty, but Gintoki is no pushover either. This little game of theirs could go on for months, and Gintoki has absolutely no intention of losing anytime soon.

Since they’ve met, Hijikata has only seen the gaping, horny, idiot version of Gintoki, but he doesn’t know how much of an alpha Gintoki can be when he really wants something. This isn’t just about scaring kids away during Toys”R”Us sales, or staring down a schoolgirl who wants the last chocolate parfait at the café until she cries and orders something else. This is about showing Hijikata that he had committed the gravest of mistakes when he decided to play with Gintoki’s feelings like that, and slowly but surely, making him crawl back to Gintoki to beg for forgiveness.

And then, from behind Gintoki, an almost-forgotten voice calls out.

“Don’t cry too much! We have a meeting tomorrow!”

Takasugi barely manages to dodge the stone flung in his direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait, guys, I haven't been horny enough to write another chapter for this fic. For those who were patient enough to stick around, thank you so much!
> 
> Honestly I had a really hard time writing this chapter, so I apologise if it wasn't any good. I hope I'll be horny enough to bounce back and write another chapter soon!


	5. The Things I Do for Love

Gintoki had an intricately planned idea in his head to get back at Hijikata, which he had been spitefully working on since the night of the incident. However, in order for his flawless scheme to succeed, Gintoki needed to get a day off work to prepare himself for it.

After a week of coming to work early to make coffee for Shoyo every morning like a fresh intern, Gintoki had finally mustered the courage to ask for a day off, hoping that the boss would give it to him despite his terrible track record.

“Ah, was that what the coffee was about, then?” Shoyo had asked from behind his desk, trying to repress the amusement in his voice.

Gintoki nodded, looking at Shoyo’s hands instead of his face. He squirmed in his seat like he’d just been sent to the principal’s office for truancy and couldn’t wait to get out.

“You can have the day off, Gintoki,” Shoyo finally said, and Gintoki sprung to his feet as if a curse had been lifted off of his body. He muttered his thanks gruffly, stumbling on the way out.

“On one condition,” Shoyo added just as Gintoki’s fingers curled around the doorknob. “If you ever make me a cup of coffee again, I’d prefer it _without_ salt, thank you.”

Through a gap in the blinds, Gintoki saw Takasugi, Katsura, and Sakamoto staring in his direction, stupid knowing smiles plastered all over their dumb faces. He left Shoyo’s office quickly, just before he felt the heat rise to his face. Upon his appearance, the three idiots erupted in laughter. Sakamoto fell off his chair, Katsura was wiping tears from his eyes, and Takasugi was filming the entire thing on his phone.

“The fuck did you guys do?” Gintoki snapped, briskly walking towards them.

“The labels—” Takasugi started, before sniggering uncontrollably again.

“What?” Gintoki spat, helplessly watching the three of them laugh almost to the point of insanity.

“My inhaler…” Sakamoto wheezed, his voice not unlike an orchestra of rusty bagpipes, causing Takasugi and Katsura to lose their shit even more. Takasugi tried to grab the inhaler on Sakamoto’s desk with his incredibly shaky hand, not once, not twice, but three times, before Gintoki impatiently snatched it and threw the damn thing at Sakamoto’s head.

Sakamoto took a couple puffs, and finally managed to settle down.

“Takasugi swapped the salt and sugar labels in the pantry,” he sighed, dabbing his tears away with a tissue.

And as much as Gintoki had wanted to grab the stupid midget by his collar and punch him into the next dimension, he couldn’t risk getting his off-day revoked. This would simply have to wait.

“You better watch yourself,” Gintoki threatened lowly, “there’s only so much I can take.”

Their faces fell at the seriousness of his words, and Gintoki turned to walk back to his cubicle, feeling a little smug about his badass exit.

That was, before he heard them burst out into laughter again.

“Damn, you gonna put my name in a Death Note or something?” Takasugi yelled, “take it easy, Yagami Light!”

Gintoki sat down and squeezed his eyes shut.

It really hurt his ego to admit, but this would really have to wait. Right now, there were more important things he had to do.

* * *

And now, Gintoki is ready to execute his magnificent plan. Standing in front of the nightclub’s heavy blackout glass doors, he dons a white dress shirt buttoned just enough for the contours of his chest to peek through the top, sleeves folded to the elbow to show off his toned forearms. He paired them with a pair of perfectly ironed slacks that accentuated the curve of his ass—he made sure to check in three different mirrors to confirm this. To finish off the look, he had spritzed on a good amount of his most expensive cologne and tousled his hair back to expose more of his forehead.

The door cracks open and a couple of piss-drunk girls stumble out, slurring loudly about god knows what, completely throwing Gintoki off and rudely interrupting his mental pep talk. One of the girls notices him and gasps, before whistling flirtatiously at him. Her friend blushes in embarrassment and pulls her away, the two of them giggling to themselves as they leave. Gintoki blinks. He’s never been catcalled before in his life. This might actually work.

With that little boost of confidence, Gintoki strides through the doors and makes his way to the stage. Heads turn, girls blush, people murmur about how good he smells. He’s feeling his absolute best right now. Scanning his surroundings, Gintoki quickly finds Hijikata entertaining some regulars at the foot of the stage, in a skimpy bunny outfit. He walks over suavely, confidently, smiling and nodding at the women who bashfully meet his gaze. Such raw, unbridled power. Is this what Hijikata feels like all the time? Gintoki briefly considers quitting his day job and working here instead.

Hijikata laughs at something one of the men in front of him says, lolling his head back a little, the bell at the end of his choker twinkling under the stage lights. As he lifts his head back to face his regulars again, his gaze meets Gintoki’s in a fleeting moment. Gintoki watches as Hijikata freezes, blinks, and turns back to look at Gintoki again. The smile on his face ebbs away, and even from this distance, Gintoki can see Hijikata’s brow twitch.

Gintoki is about to frown back, when a slender arm slips around his own.

“Hey, handsome,” a seductive voice tickles his ear. Gintoki reels back at the proximity of the stranger, covering his ear and glaring at her as though she’d just given him a wet willy. She scrunches her nose at his reaction.

“What, think you’re too good for me?” she snaps, folding her arms in irritation. Gintoki gives her a once-over, and realises he has seen her around before. It’s the girl from last week’s set, with the scar and the kunai hairdo. She’s wearing a sheer black kimono lined with lace. It’s tied loosely around her waist, dipping just enough to reveal her cleavage to the centre gore of her bra. The hem of her kimono dances playfully around her smooth thighs, the thin fabric barely concealing her bra and thong, even in the darkness of the club. Gintoki remembers the cheers she had received last week, the huge crowd already gathered from before he arrived. Looking at her now, Gintoki could see why she was one of the most popular strippers, maybe second to Hijikata…

Right, Hijikata. That’s what Gintoki came here for before she distracted him with her body.

He looks back in Hijikata’s direction, but the stripper was already sitting in one of his regular’s laps, obediently downing shots as the rest of the men cheer him on.

“Oh, so you’re Hijikata’s little boyfriend,” the woman says flatly, as if she had completely lost interest in Gintoki upon finding out.

“I… what? Does the whole club know about us?”

Gintoki is so confused, and hearing her call him ‘Hijikata’s boyfriend’ made his head all fuzzy, which definitely isn’t helping right now. _Shit_. After a week of careful planning and nine whole contingency plans, Gintoki didn’t think something as small as this would be enough to frazzle him, and the fact that he was, in fact, getting all worked up about the word ‘boyfriend’, frustrated him to no end. Even when Hijikata wasn’t doing anything, he still managed to push all the right buttons in Gintoki’s head.

“Sure…” The woman’s voice trails off, an eyebrow lifted as she watches Gintoki’s face twist, almost like he’s holding in a huge fart. “Well, anyway, I’m gonna go now—"

“—no, no, wait,” Gintoki cuts her off, grabbing her elbow so she can’t escape. “What’s your name?”

She slaps his arm away, but stays to hear what he has to say. “Tsukuyo.”

“Right, Tsukuyo. Okay,” Gintoki tries, gathering his thoughts. He looks back in Hijikata’s direction, and catches Hijikata shoot a glance in his direction. Perfect timing.

He shoves a hand into his pocket and takes out a fat wad of cash, brings Tsukuyo’s hand up, and places it on her palm. “Follow me,” Gintoki whispers into her ear, his resolve quickly turning into confidence. It sends a shiver down her spine, and before she knows it, she’s following behind him unquestioningly, ready to do his bidding.

Gintoki eases himself into an armchair dangerously near Hijikata and company, spreading his legs as he sends a smirk in Hijikata’s direction. Hijikata frowns and tears his eyes away from Gintoki’s general direction, making sure to roll his eyes dramatically.

“Come here, baby,” Gintoki says, and Hijikata eyes widen. He whips his head back to look, but no, Gintoki wasn’t talking to him. Before he could even stand from his seat, Gintoki had gently taken Tsukuyo’s hand in his, kissed it, and guided her to sit in his lap.

“Will you dance for me?” Gintoki asks, voice low and smooth like honey. It was a question, of course, but the dark expression on Gintoki’s face is all Tsukuyo needs to understand that she is in no position to deny—not that she minds at all. Everything was paid and accounted for, and Gintoki is hot enough for her to accept whatever complaints Hijikata would throw at her in the dressing room later.

She swings a leg over gracefully and straddles Gintoki’s hips. “Yes, Master.”

Her body begins to move, in slow, sensual waves against Gintoki’s crotch. He smiles, catching Hijikata’s horrified expression in the corner of his eye.

“Good girl.”

* * *

All Hijikata sees is red.

He doesn’t even care that he had just completely ignored one of his client’s jokes and stormed off without a word. Those businessmen were Hijikata’s regulars, generous tippers, but they probably wouldn’t be coming back for him after tonight. A pity, really, but It’s the least of his worries at the moment.

It was just too much to handle—Gintoki looking the best he’s ever looked, ordering Tsukuyo to give him a lap dance right in front of him, and tipping her after—Hijikata had to get away from it all.

He angrily swipes at the beaded curtains leading to the dressing rooms, and they slap noisily against the wall before tangling. The female dancers look on with a mixture of fear and concern as he marches past them, into his own room, and slamming the door shut.

He barely gets a moment of peace to himself when someone knocks on the sliding door. From the silhouette behind the frosted glass, Hijikata can tell it’s one of the newer girls.

“Hijikata-san… Kondo-san wants to talk to you,” she says, as if she’s afraid of her own voice. Hijikata pinches the bridge of his nose, but he grunts to tell her to let him in anyway.

“Toshi!” Kondo yells, completely oblivious to Hijikata’s ire, rushing forward to sit next to him on the floor. “What happened?”

He sounds genuinely concerned. Hijikata offers him a glance, guilt rising in his chest and forcing him to compose himself. Kondo is dressed in an obnoxiously bright purple sequin suit, which he also has in every other colour of the rainbow. “One for every day of the week,” he always says, puffing his chest proudly. The piercing purple colour should annoy Hijikata even more, but for some odd reason, he feels… at ease looking at it.

“Ask Tsukuyo,” Hijikata replies quietly, looking away, hoping that Kondo would get the hint that he’s not in the mood to talk. He hears Kondo shift awkwardly on the floor.

“The Yamamoto executives left,” Kondo says. Hijikata doesn’t move. “Do you want the rest of the night off?”

A pang of guilt strikes Hijikata’s gut. He had just lost Kondo a group of heavy spenders, all because he couldn’t contain his jealousy. Had the club owner been someone else, Hijikata would have been fired on the spot.

“Sorry,” Hijikata says softly, slowly turning back to face Kondo and offering the most assuring smile he can muster, “I’ll be back outside in a bit.”

Kondo’s shoulders go slack, relief washing over his face. Hijikata laughs inwardly at the dramatic reaction. Kondo places a large hand on his bare shoulder.

“Don’t force yourself, Toshi.”

With that, Kondo is out the door, leaving Hijikata to compose himself.

* * *

Gintoki sits on a bar stool, sipping a glass of whiskey as he watches Sogo twirl a cobbler shaker skilfully with one hand. He pours the cocktail into a glass with pinpoint precision, and a few girls squeal in awe as he serves it to them in a swift, practised motion, topping it off nicely with a playful wink. The girls clap and giggle, and proceed to shower him with tips. He feigns disbelief, bowing repeatedly as he accepts the notes, and then turns back to Gintoki with a completely stoic face as he places the money neatly in his pocket. Gintoki scoffs.

“Just go up there and dance, why don’t you,” he teases, though he’s fairly impressed with Sogo’s antics, especially given his young age.

“You’re getting comfortable,” Sogo remarks. Gintoki waits for an elaboration, but that’s all he has to say, apparently.

“Hijikata started it,” Gintoki shrugs, sipping more of his whiskey.

Sogo ignores him, setting down an empty glass. He looks ahead, lips pressed into a thin line, and the slightest hint of a frown between his brows. Gintoki turns around to see a man in a hideous purple blazer bowing frantically to the group of businessmen Hijikata was entertaining earlier. One of the men yells and flips him off, signalling the rest of them to move off. They storm out of the club as the purple man looks on helplessly. Sogo clicks his tongue in annoyance and goes back to wiping mugs.

“Way to fuck things up for us,” he clips. Gintoki rolls his eyes.

“So you lost five guys, big deal.” He downs the last of his whiskey.

“The Yamamoto guys tipped in the hundreds, you still owe me change from last week.”

Gintoki sighs and stands sluggishly, making a show of opening his wallet and slapping a fifty on the counter. Sogo quietly pockets the cash. As Gintoki steps away from the bar, hands in his pockets, Sogo raises his voice over the music.

“He’s probably out back smoking,” he says, almost urgently. Gintoki turns around and raises an eyebrow. Was he concerned about Hijikata? Sogo doesn’t meet his eye. “Go talk some sense into him. I don’t wanna lose any more regulars.”

Gintoki smiles, turns back, and gives him a thumbs up as he leaves.

* * *

Without the heat from drunk bodies and harsh lights, the air outside the club is much cooler, much crisper, and much lighter. Gintoki breathes it in, savouring the feeling of the night breeze tickling his face. He makes his way around to the back of the club, avoiding drunks vomiting on the side of the road, and carefully stepping over passed out bodies on the curbs. He finally reaches a dark alley, lit by only a single light above a door, which he can only assume leads to the back of the club.

There are a couple dancers smoking and chatting near the door, and Gintoki immediately spots a familiar silhouette further down the alley. He’s taken off his bunny-ear headband and has a big jacket over his naked torso. Gintoki walks closer, and now sees that he has a cigarette in his hand. He’s so far lost in his thoughts that by the time he notices Gintoki in front of him, it’s too late to escape.

He does make it very clear that he’s not happy to see Gintoki, though, by throwing his cigarette on the ground and crushing it under his heel. Gintoki whistles at the blatant act of defiance, still riding the high of getting his sweet revenge.

“Fuck do you want,” Hijikata snaps, folding his arms and leaning against the brick wall behind him. Gintoki rests a large hand on the wall next to Hijikata’s head, leaning close. Hijikata visibly jolts at the sudden closeness, turning away from Gintoki’s arm, lips pressed thin as he holds his breath.

“To see you.”

Gintoki tilts his head and leans in to the crook of Hijikata’s exposed neck, inhaling deep. He sighs contently, knowing full well that Hijikata can smell the cologne on his own neck, too.

“You smell good,” he says, leaning back to smile at Hijikata. There is a hint of pink on the tips of Hijikata’s ears, but his face is still fixed in an unimpressed scowl. Gintoki grins wide. Hijikata eyes him up and down, as if contemplating something, and finally decides to keep his eyes on his own feet as he pulls out another cigarette.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

Gintoki blinks. He has a boyfriend?

“He’s okay with you coming here?” Hijikata asks again. Gintoki is still trying to figure out who his boyfriend is.

“I thought you didn’t spend money on hookers,” Hijikata mutters, bitterly, disappointedly, lowering his head as he takes a puff of his cigarette.

“Hijikata,” Gintoki gently holds his wrist, and Hijikata’s eyes shoot up at the contact. Gintoki’s hand is warm, very warm.

“Who is my boyfriend?” Gintoki asks, and Hijikata almost slaps him. But then he looks into Gintoki’s eyes, and there is not a single hint of mockery in them. Only pure, genuine confusion.

“Who did I give a lap dance to, then?”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, before realisation hits Gintoki like a truck.

“Did you give my colleague a lap dance… because you thought he was my boyfriend?”

Hijikata doesn’t reply, but his face is redder than before.

“You were _jealous_?” Gintoki asks in disbelief. “I thought you just did that to piss me off.”

“Was that why you paid Tsukuyo to…” Hijikata trailed off, stewing in the realisation of how badly both of them had fucked up.

Gintoki laughs softly, and then he laughs some more, throwing his head back with relief. Hijikata really _did_ like him back. He was never delusional about it. Fuck Takasugi and his stupid assumptions. Love is real, as far as Gintoki’s concerned. He leans in and presses a chaste kiss on Hijikata’s cheek.

Hijikata brings a hand up to touch where he was just kissed, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

“Sorry,” he whispers sincerely, sweeping Hijikata’s bangs out of his eyes to look at him better. “I didn’t mean to confuse you.”

“Idiot,” Hijikata scolds under his breath, leaning his head on Gintoki’s chest and punching it lightly, “I hate you so much.”

Gintoki wraps his arms around Hijikata’s back.

“Sure you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!
> 
> Thank you for waiting and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter :)


End file.
